Shadow of the Moon
by Artemis Faery
Summary: AU. Her skin is the color of the moon, her hair is like rivers of fire, and her eyes are sharp shards of ice. She lives in Mirkwood; she knows its secrets, its paths, and its horrors. That is why Gandalf chose her, chose her to lead the dwarves through that cursed forest. But Aza is far from human, the black blood of an orc flows through her veins. Movieverse with hints of the book
1. Prologue PT 1

**Shadow of the Moon**

**Prologue Pt.1**

* * *

***All dialogue is automatically Black Speech.***

Clawed and worn stone carvings covered the walls. The ceilings were high and arched with grand dwarven architecture. Moria was truly a marvel. But the squeals and arguments of young orcs filled the magnificent stone room, taking away from its majesty. Down below were dozens of young orcs, both male and female. They were young, just beginning to learn the techniques of battle.

One young orc stood out from the others. He was taller and stronger than the other orclings, his most startling features were his icy blue eyes and pure white skin. His name was Azog. Some thought him a mutation, a freak. Others saw the greatness in him, he would be a mighty leader one day.

Azog had just bested another older, larger orc. He was feeling pretty proud of himself, the older orclings' dagger rested on his hip. To show his dominance he pushed a smaller, weaker, orc to the ground. The victim squawked as Azog's foot connected with his stomach. The pale orcling kept kicking the little orc.

"Let him be!" A high pitched voice shouted from the gathering crowd of orclings. They had been attracted by all the commotion and were there to watch.

Azog glared at the crowd around him, looking for the opposing voice. He was appalled at the fact that someone would _dare _oppose him. Then, from out of the crowd, a young female pushed her way forward. Her oddly ashen green eyes glowed with a furious hatred. Azog noticed something about this little female, her was of a coal red hue. It fell around her in a thick curtain. Like all female orcs, she was much less twisted and vile than the males. She had smooth, deep, grey skin, slender limbs and a fair face. She would be beautiful when she came of age.

Azog scoffed at her, this was pathetic.

"Stupid girl, you can't tell me what to do!" he snarled.

Azog was expecting her to back down, not lunge at him like a panther. She was screaming and clawing, her hair was everywhere at once. With sickening ease Azog threw her to the ground and pulled the dagger. Females were not supposed to attack males – that was just how it worked. Azog saw a flicker of fear in her grey-green eyes. He smirked, he was sure he had her beat. But she wasn't done yet. She lunged back up with renewed fire, and out of reflex, Azog slashed the dagger upward. A cry of pain came from her lips. From below the knee up to her mid thigh there was a very deep gash. Black blood was pouring from her leg.

Azog nodded and gave a cruel smirk.

"Pathetic, no male will ever want you now!" He taunted before he spat on her and turned away, his group of cronies laughing coarsely from his side.

She laid there, in shock, blood pouring from her leg, she was humiliated and ruined. Females weren't supposed to be scarred. They were supposed to be unscathed until a male bit her, symbolizing their union as mates. She was tainted, forever to be alone unless a male decided to look past her 'deformities' and her crippled leg. The knife had gone deep, too deep, deeper than Azog had intended. She was now crippled. Bola felt a drop of water slide from her eye, she was unwanted.

-xXx-

Years passed and the orclings of that time grew into mature orcs. All of the males mated with females, the females bore their young. All the while Bola watched as her peers grew and gave birth. She had a permanent limp in her left leg. Instead of becoming a mother, she became the Elder orc's apprentice. She learned everything the old female orc knew, from healing and birthing orclings, to counseling of war.

She would see the other females watching over their now walking youngsters and hatred would course through her veins at the thought of the Pale Orc who had crippled her and taken her chance of children away. The female had never seen him again, the same went for Azog. He never saw the little fiery female again.

Bola had grown to be very beautiful (by orcish standards). Her body had matured, she was slender with wide hips, good for bearing young, her shoulders were wiry and strong her breast was full. And her face was the most fair any of the older orcs had seen in a long time. If she had been left unharmed she would have been the mate of a lord.

No male wanted to mate with a cripple, even though she was born perfectly fine. She glared at the ground as she built a fire out of old rags and bones. She vented her anger on the bone she was spinning between her palms. Soon a little fire had sprouted and was spreading over the rancid kindling. The smell of smoke filled her sensitive nostrils and burned her ash green eyes. The sound of another orc shuffling behind her made her head snap up.

"Don' look now, but yer crippler has returned." Cringa, an old friend of Bola's murmured from behind. A healthy orcling rested on her hip.

Hot, blind rage clouded Bola's vision as she stood slowly, relying on her right leg to stand.

"Where is he?" The crippled female said, her voice was cold as ice.

Cringa snorted.

"Bola, you wouldn't be able to hurt him, he's huge!" The mother orc warned.

"I want to see him… I haven't seen him since that day…" Bola began to hobble towards the echoes of excited voices.

She limped her way to the center square of the ancient subterranean dwarven city. Her eyes were watching the ground in front of her, making sure her feet did not falter. Then she looked up, her hand supporting her against the side of a stone house. There, in the middle of the square, was a very strong, tall, and – to her virgin mind – attractive pale orc.

-xXx-

Azog's ice shard eyes roamed the crowd, taking in how many orclings there seemed to be. He was proud to lead such a strong settlement. He had come back from years of marauding. It was time for him to continue his line with a female who was purely his own.

That was when he saw her, standing in the shadows of a stone house. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her flame red hair cascading like rivers around her shoulders, her eyes were glittering with hatred, hatred directed at him. She sent him a withering glare before she stepped back into the deep shadows.

He was going to find this female.

-xXx-

Bola had no idea what was going through her, hatred, fury, and attraction. She cursed the instincts of a female orc which knew when they had found a suitable mate. How on earth could she believe the orc who crippled her was a suitable mate? She let out a growl of frustration before limping back to the fire.

-xXx-

War was brewing outside of Moria, the dwarves had declared war and were marching on the gates. They would be there soon. Bola busied herself with mending armor and preparing supplies for healing. It had come to her attention that Azog was near, and he was watching her closely. His advancement came when she was gathering water in a large underground lake.

"I am surprised you do not have a mate…" A deep voice rumbled from behind her.

Bola saw white rippled in the water.

"No one wants a cripple." She scoffed through clenched teeth.

She felt him come closer to her.

"You do not seem deformed…" He mused, a predatory purr in his voice.

She glared at the water before standing as quickly as her leg would allow and turning to face him. He was like a white mountain behind her. She had to crane her neck upward in order to make eye contact. Bola gestured to her deeply scarred leg, his icy eyes widened.

"Who did this to you?" He hissed.

She gave him a disbelieving look.

"You don't remember, do you?" She spat before picking her water skin off of the ground and limping away furiously.

Horror rose in Azog's chest, those eyes, the hair, it was her, the little female who had attacked him all those years ago.

He had crippled her.

He had made her unwanted and unmated. He was angry at himself, she was beautiful and available. She would have made the perfect mate for him, but he had crippled her. Azog could only imagine what it would do to his reputation if he took a lame mate. A deep growl escaped his lips as he stormed away.

He had a battle to prepare for.

-xXx-

Bola watched as the legions of orcs readied for battle, Azog stood at their head, a heavy mace in his hand. He had been in a rather foul mood once he found out what he had done to her. She stood by the huge stone gates, covered in their shadow. Nevertheless, Azog knew she was there. His gaze caught hers, she and Azog's eyes locked, he gave her the barest of nods then the young orc general let out a loud bellow, signaling the departure of the army. Bola felt a pang of worry, she feared for his life.

-xXx-

Bola had been quite daring and stayed near the gates, hearing the sounds of battle raging outside. Then the victorious yells of Khuzdul echoed into the halls and a screaming orc was dragged through the gates.

It was Azog.

And his left arm was missing from below the elbow.

Blood was trailing from behind several orcs that were dragging him through Moria. Bola limped as fast as she could to the healer. However, the Elder had already seen Azog's plight. The old orcess began barking out orders; two young females scurried off to retrieve bandages and fire. Save for Bola, she had been given another task, to find a replacement arm.

Loosing limbs wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but the chances of the victim surviving were slimmer than Bola liked. There was a box of tangled metal poles and hooks. Some had curved ends, others had three pronged like forks, she saw some like tridents. But nothing reminded her of Azog. That was, until her hand found a rather nasty looking piece of metal. It was long and had spikes sticking out from every direction, like a thorn. She nodded, this would work very well.

Azog was lying on a stone ground writhing and growling in delirious pain. Everything was a blur of movement and colors, voices were echoing and distant. Then, through his cloudy mind, he heard a familiar voice, it was _her. _He tried to focus his vision to where he had heard her voice. The wounded orc saw her red hair. This, for some reason, comforted him, she was with him.

Bola hated seeing him like that, writhing and growling in pain, even he shouldn't have been so tortured. They had a cloth pressed to his arm to try and stop the blood flow.

"Will he live?" She asked the Elder orc.

"Well, we need ta get tha wound burned off, gimme tha claw!" The Elder yanked the nasty looking spiked pole from her hands. "And Bola, go ta his side and keep him as calm as ye can," She added before jamming the prosthetic up his forearm until it was sticking out the end of his elbow.

Azog let out a deafening bellow of pain, his face contorted with pain. Bola was by his side, his head resting in her lap. He was trying to grab an invisible weapon to smite all those around him. Bola ran her hand on his scarred cheek in a soft, soothing manner, he began to still. His eyes opened slightly, he stilled completely when he saw who was comforting him. Azog didn't want to hurt her again.

The Elder watched as Bola calmed him, she had done it effortlessly. She was tender and caring when she touched him. Strange, he was the one who had crippled her so terribly. He looked at her with care, the way a male looked at his mate. The Elder smirked, they were both crippled now. Nothing was between them.

-xXx-

Azog was unconscious for a week after they had burned the wound and given him his prosthetic. Bola was always tending him. The Elder had put his welfare in her hands. He had barely woken during that time, barely more than a shift in his sleep. But every time he did shift it always gave her hope that he would wake. And one day he did.

-xXx-

Everything was blurry and painful when Azog opened his eyes. He tried to sit up but found that he was too weak. A frustrated growl of pain escaped his throat as he collapsed back down onto the floor. There was a scurry of uneven steps, a ruffle of air, and small arms wrapping around his shoulders that lowered him to the ground. Azog looked to see who was helping him.

It was her.

He relaxed and gave into her gentle pushing. When he was lying back down she grabbed a nearby rag out of a bowl and began to wipe his cheek. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You stayed…" He said, his voice ragged and hoarse.

Azog reached up to touch her face. Instead of his familiar pale had lifting up to cup her cheek, a grotesque claw rose in place. It was a moment of confusion for him. He could still feel as if his hand was still there… but when he flexed nothing happened.

So his hand really was gone…

"Are you alright?" She asked him.

He looked up to meet her eyes. There was an almost shy look in their ash-green depths.

"Of course I am," He growled. "I am not weak." He tried to stand.

"No, you can't walk just yet. You must rest, your wounds were grave." Bola said, putting effort into pushing him back onto the ground. He growled softly but complied to the female's wishes.

Soon his eyes closed and he faded back into oblivion.

-xXx-

A week passed and Bola began to feel very comfortable in Azog's presence. She would replace the bandages around his arm and stay in his company for a short time. He seemed to enjoy those times.

Oddly enough, her anger towards him would vanish when she stepped into the room where he lay. He would smile at her as she brought him food and healing wraps.

He would watch her tend to his arm with a heated, unblinking gaze. Meeting his eyes with her own would cause odd things to start happening in her body. Bola resolved to keep her eyes focused on her work.

But one day it wasn't enough for Azog to just observe her. He wanted to touch her, he wanted her to be his and his alone.

It went just like the other days; Bola would enter, smile, limp over to his side, and begin to tend his arm. She was in the middle of re wrapping the stump when his remaining hand slid to her leg, tracing the deep scare that lingered there. She stilled. Her dark eyes flicked to his. There was an undeniable lust in their depths. She swallowed wondering what to do.

She didn't have to do anything, really. Azog was up and holding her down before she could even blink, his chest heaving from the need to mate. He gave a sharp nip to her neck, asking for her approval. Females would have the final say in whether or not they would forever mate with a male. A sense of irony rose in her mind. How ironic that the orc who had crippled her and called her worthless wanted nothing more that to mate with her.

Bola's mind was numb for a moment before instinct kicked into her actions. She smirked and teasingly nuzzled his neck. She felt a deep vibrating growl emit from his chest. The orcess picked the place where his neck met his shoulder and bit down hard. His blood filled her mouth, he growled in pleasure. Then he bit her in the same place.

They were now bound together, they were mates.

-xXx-

Bola shifted in her sleep, something heavy was draped over her torso. Her eyes opened and she saw white. There was confusion in her mind, _why was she –? _Then everything hit her, she was laying beside Azog, her mate. That thought made her smile softly. His thick arm was holding onto her bare form protectively. She tried to wiggle her way out from his secure grasp but he was much, _much _stronger than she.

"Where are you going?" His deep voice rumbled from beside her.

"I need to breathe!" She grumbled.

He chuckled and the weight around her waist disappeared. She sat up and yawned, her sharp white fangs glinting in the low torch light. Her wiry arms stretched out and her back straightened. The feel of cool fingers trailing up her spine made her shiver. The fingers made their way to her thick hair where they took to gently combing through her deep ginger locks.

"I hope our offspring have your hair," he mused.

The realization that she would most likely become pregnant made her stay silent. She wouldn't be surprised if there was already a child beginning to grow within her womb.

"You don't wish to have orclings?" He murmured, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, being wary of the metal claw.

"Course I do! I just believed I never would." A small grin graced her features.

He nuzzled her neck.

"Our young will be strong, they will be leaders."

"Of course they will be," She said and rested her head on his shoulders.

-xXx-

_Months Later…_

Bola sighed and tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness hit her. So she remained sitting on the ground inside of her stone home. Soon after they had mated, Azog had made her move into a large stone home which had probably been a dwarven nobles' house. The home was relatively untouched and some artifacts from the dwarves still remained there. Bola had cleaned the home up and made it to her liking.

There had been some confusion when Bola and Azog mated. After a few rolled heads and slashed faces, Azog had gotten it lodged in the minds of the other orcs that there was nothing wrong with him being mated to Bola. And she was perfectly happy with that, she was mated to a strong orc who wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Bola was correct… their mating made her stomach swell with child. This was why she couldn't get off the floor. Her stomach was bigger than it should be at the time. The Elder orc was worried that the child would be too big for her to birth naturally.

Azog had gone off raiding a month or so after they had mated, when his arm was healed. She really wished he was home. He could help her get up. Actually, he hadn't known she was carrying his child when he left. Knowing Azog and his fierce protective nature, he probably wouldn't have gone off if he had been aware.

Bola grunted in pain when the baby started to violently kick and move in her womb. She laid a hand on her twitching stomach.

"Calm down! I haven't forgotten you," she said softly, rubbing circles on her swollen stomach.

The baby calmed, then gave a much more timid and gentle wiggle. She smiled.

"That's better,"

"I leave you alone for a few months and I come back and you're talking to yourself." A deep rumble came from behind her.

Her head turned and she grinned at the sight of her pale mate. He had a heavy sack slung over his shoulder and a teasing grin on his scarred lips.

"Help me up," She said.

Worry filled his eyes; he swung the heavy bag down from his shoulders with ease. He strode towards her.

"Is it your leg?" He stopped when he saw her swelled stomach. She smirked at his expression of surprise, he was lost for words.

"This is your fault," She grinned teasingly.

Azog stood and stared at her stomach for a moment more before kneeling. He put his large remaining hand on her stomach. The baby reacted to the contact, kicking and wiggling about. The Pale Orc grinned, pride shown in his eyes.

"He will be very strong."

"Just like you," She smile.

Azog wrapped his mate up in his arms and lifted her from the ground.

"You must rest," He insisted.

Bola rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine, I've survived six months without resting, a few more –"

"No, you're resting." Azog lay her down on a stone bed piled with warg furs.

"Azog I'm –"

"Rest," He ran his hand over her hair and put his forehead to hers. She gave him a half hearted glare before settling into the furs and closing her eyes.

Azog let out a soft puff of air and sat down beside his mate. He saw her stomach twitch slightly. He reached out and laid his hand on her womb, he felt the child moving around. On one side of her stomach it seemed to be fighting in an invisible battle and on the other side it seemed as if it was curious, just wiggling softly. His brow creased, it was almost as if there were two different children in the womb of his mate. He shook his head, twins were exceedingly rare. Bola couldn't be carrying twins…

-xXx-

_A few months later…_

Azog awoke to the anguished cry of his mate. Bola was sitting up, clutching her stomach.

"It's time!" She gasped.

Azog was by her side in a flash, scooping her up and carrying her to the tent of the Elder. On the way he noticed that Bola was wet, but it wasn't urine. It was a wetness that he had never smelled before. This concerned him, something could be wrong with the baby. The Pale Orc pushed the tent open and lay Bola down on the warg skins reserved for child birth. The Elder was already up and boiling rags.

"I had a feeling she would birth tonight," The Elder croaked.

"If either of them die it will be on your head!" Azog hissed.

A bored expression was on the old female's face.

"I will do all I can,"

Azog looked to his groaning, sweaty mate once more before leaving the tent.

Hours passed until Bola let out an ear splitting cry and another wail joined her own. It was a baby orc cry. The cry was guttural and loud, it would have scared any human mother to death. The child continued to cry. Azog could tell he (or she, but he was pretty sure it was a he) was very angry with whatever was happening. The Pale Orc heard Bola give a short cry of surprise, although he barely heard it over the cry of the baby. He heard a little squeak and the baby stopped its wailing.

Time passed and all was in a peaceful silence. Soon, a rustle of the tent and the head of the Elder nodding to him signaled Azog to come see his heir. The Pale Orc pushed the tent open and strode in. Bola lay, her hair sweaty and her eyes glazy, on a fresh warg skin. She smiled to him and nodded in the direction of a cradle. He walked to the cradles edge and looked in. The first thing he saw was a big baby boy, a tuft of ginger on his forehead, his skin was a very, very light grey. The little boy had a scowl on his already ugly face. He was the making of an orc.

Then Azog heard the softest of coos. His eyes trained to another little figure lying beside his son.

A baby girl.

The little girl had her blue eyes opened wide and her feet in the air. Her head was completely covered in red hair. She had flawless pearl skin that seemed to shimmer. Azog felt a smile tug at his lips. The boy was grunting violently in his sleep, jerking about. But the girl lay there, her eyes looking around, her small pale fist securely jammed in her mouth. Azog extended a finger to his daughter. The movement made her new eyes look his way. Her tiny hand unclenched and reached out for her father's finger. The moment her soft baby hand touched his rough scarred finger he knew this was his favorite child.

"They're strong," Bola's tired voice said.

"Yes, they will be feared when they grow older," He muttered, touching the downy hair on his daughter's head.

"Will you bring the boy to me? He needs to eat."

"The boy is sleeping. I will bring you the girl."

Bola's brow rose as she watched her giant mate pick up the tiny baby with tenderness she didn't know he possessed. Azog held the child carefully. Bola could tell he was afraid to drop her. But soon the little pale baby was lying in the arms of her mother.

"What do you wish to name our son?" Bola asked, not looking up from her task of feeding the baby. It was not strange for Azog to be there, female orcs fed their young publicly all the time.

"Bolg," Azog answered.

Bola gave him an incredulous look.

"Usually you name the son after the father…"

"The girl's name will be Aza."

"I see you're quite fond of her," Bola gave a small smirk.

"Why shouldn't I? She looks like me."

"And Bolg does not?"

"Not like Aza,"

"Treat them equally. I'll not have jealousy in our home!" Bola said sternly.

"Our son is to be a warrior, a leader of vast armies," He kneeled quickly at the side of his mate. "Our daughter has no need to be violent."

"Who knows, maybe she will become even more deadly than her brother." Bola mused.

"No, she is female, she will be kept safe." Azog watched the little baby eat quietly for a moment.

"Maath lûb." He murmured, touching her soft, pale cheek.

He swore to protect her in that moment. Nothing would harm his daughter.

He did not know how wrong he was.

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**Translation: maath lûb – sweet daughter**

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***READ AN***

**Well, hello readers. What a strange little story I've got going here, hmm? I've been slaving over this for months. Seeing the DoS messed up my previous ideas… I had to go through and reboot my idea pool. That's why you guys didn't get the promised story on the 13****th****. **

**I'm on a bit of an orc high currently. This is the first part of a 4 Part prologue series… there won't be any spoilers for the movie till after that. I will be using some aspects of the book that are necessary for the plot to actually work properly. **

**THIS STORY HAS ABSOLUTLY NOTHING TO DO WITH MY OTHER STORIES! THEY ARE NOT CONNECTED IN ANYWAY.**

**The plot will kick in after that. There won't be any romance in this story, especially dwarfmance (No Fíli, Kíli, or Thorin romance.)**

**This story will go on till I reach the place where I'll need to wait for the next movie. During the hiatus time I'll get back to my other stories. **

**I leave this really long AN so I won't have to later and you can just read the freakin story.**

**I hope you review, follow, and favorite. It would mean a lot to me ;)**


	2. Prologue PT2

***NOTE***

**Baby orcs mature much faster than humans.**

* * *

**Prologue PT. 2**

* * *

Bola bit her lip as she tried to change a very wiggly Aza. The little pale infant was cooing and rolling around with a one tooth grin. It had been four months since the twins had been born. The orc settlement of Moria took their birth as a gift, a sign of power. Azog let it go to his head that he had sired the only twins remembered in generations of orcs. He was very proud of his healthy children and wasn't afraid to brag about them.

Bolg was a particularly large orcling. At four months of age he already had four sharp teeth and could crawl around with ease. Aza, on the other hand, was smaller than her brother and only had one tooth. She also preferred to lie on a blanket and watch her surroundings with a calculating expression.

The orc mother slipped the clip through the fabric around the child's waist. She picked the baby up under the armpits and held her out.

"What am I going to do with you, Aza?" Bola said to the baby.

Aza in return cooed and reached for her mother's face. Bola pulled her baby girl close before setting her down on a blanket. The baby let out a gurgle of delight and began to play with her toes. Then an almighty crash and a squeal of rage filled the air.

"Bolg! Get out of there!" Bola yelled to her son as she limped away to another room.

-xXx-

Azog was sick and tired of other orcs challenging his authority. It was a pity that they had to die, they were capable warriors. He sighed as he walked up the stone steps of his home. He heard a loud crash and Bola's yell to their son. The pale orc smirked; his large son was already a handful.

He strode through the door of his home and looked for his mate and son. He began to walk across the room when a little squeak made him stop and look down. Staring up at him was the smiling face of his little daughter.

The big orc knelt down and laid his huge hand on her. His whole hand was a big as the child's body. Aza's eyes got big and cross-eyed looking at his hand. She grinned and kicked her legs and waved her little fists all about. Azog let a small grin pass his lips at the sight of his beloved little girl. He noticed the small pointy tooth pushing its way up from her bottom gum. He tested the sharpness of the new tooth with his finger. Aza bit down on his finger, Azog barely felt anything, but it was good start.

"You spoil her," The teasing voice of his mate said from the doorway of another room.

He looked up and grinned at Bola – who was holding Bolg with some difficulty. The big light skinned boy was trying to escape from his mother's grasp. He had and unruly mop of dirty red hair on his head and wild blue eyes which didn't carry the calm collectedness of his sister. Bola finally had enough and put him on the ground. The orcling immediately started grunting something over and over and crawled his way to Aza. Aza in return cooed something at him, her little arms reached out. Bolg lay down beside his sister and gently wrapped his arms around her.

Their parents watched this with curiosity. Normally, siblings were violent with one another and always tried to outdo each other. But this interaction of tender care was new to them.

"I believe they were saying each other's names," Bola murmured in astonishment.

"Their bond will be strong," Azog said, reaching out and touching his daughter's soft ginger locks.

"Between you and Bolg nothing is ever going to come near enough to hurt her." Bola scoffed dryly.

Azog looked at his two children, his son holding onto his daughter tightly. His mate was right. He and his son would protect her tooth and nail.

-xXx-

_One year later…_

Being the orc lord of Moria wasn't an easy task. It involved a lot of crusading to gain the loyalties and favor of other orc and goblin settlements all around Middle Earth. And if they opposed him, well, he would massacre their settlement and steal their resources.

And never once had he been defeated.

Azog's mind was always wandering back to his mate and children back in Moria. It had been over a year since he had last seen them. He was sure they had grown strong and healthy. A picture of his smiling red haired daughter flashed through his mind. A smile almost passed his lips but he kept his face stoic and unreadable. His pack was a few days travel away from Moria. It was killing him to be so close to his children and mate. He let out a barely audible growl and turned towards his troop of orcs. They had to get going if they wanted to return home with good time. All of the orcs were getting antsy from being away for so long.

-xXx-

Soon Azog arrived home. It was nighttime and the torches in the city had been extinguished. He made his way up the stone stairs that sat in front of his home. He knew that Bola and the children would be sleeping so he walked quietly through the open connected layout of the home. The large pale orc stooped under a low door that led into the room where Bola liked to sleep. In the faint light he could see remarkably well, he saw the sleeping form of his mate and what seemed to be a second lumpy figure beside her. Suspicion rose inside him, he walked with caution.

He stopped beside the stone bed and pulled back the covers, only to reveal not one, but two sleeping bodies.

His children were curled up beside their mother in most interesting positions. Bolg was contorted in a way Azog didn't think was possible, Aza on the other hand, slept under her brother. He realized that she was awake, and didn't look happy about it. Her brother was on top of her and her cheeks had the faintest hint of color to them. Azog smirked, poor little thing couldn't get out from under her brother. The pale orc pulled his son off of his daughter. Bolg's mouth was open and he was drooling.

Aza sat up, her hair was wild and her eyes were sleepy. She looked up at Azog with some confusion; he gave the barest of smiles and once again moved his son over, this time to beside his mate. Aza watched as he sat down beside her, her brow was knit in confusion. Then she reached out with her small hand and grabbed his remaining hand. She compared it with her own, and then she looked to her mother and back to Azog. Then her eyes glowed with realization.

"Da," she smiled.

He ran his only hand over her hair.

"Maath lûb." He murmured as he lay down beside her. She wiggled down into the blanket and lay against him. His long arm was able to wrap around his mate and both his children. He felt Aza's breathing even out into a deep, peaceful sleep.

-xXx-

_Eight years later…_

Aza was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor in one of the unused rooms of her home, her brow creased in concentration. Just because she was a girl didn't mean she couldn't wield a weapon. At almost ten years of age she was smarter than the other orclings who were three years her senior. Now her brother, Bolg, was a large mean brute who could beat bigger orcs to a pulp. Poor Bola had her hands full with the twins. Aza's brains and Bolg's physical prowess were enough to keep the entire orc settlement on their toes.

The pale orcling was working on making a stone knife. Her brother already had one and she thought it unfair that her mother and father wouldn't let her have one. So she had taken matters into her own hands. It was just a sharp piece of rock she had nicked off a grouchy old orc in the main square. It was rough and uncomfortable in her hand, so she was adding long strips of leather to what would become a hilt. She bit her tongue as she tightened the last strip of leather. It would do the trick.

She stood and smirked as she slid the knife into the pouch she had also stolen from another orc. The child attached the pouch to her inner thigh; no one would see it there. With a bounce in her step she made her way to the Brood Hall, a place where orclings congregated to play and tussle. Eventually it would be the place where the males would learn to fight. But for now it was a place where mother orcs could send their kids. The whole room had one adult orc to keep the peace, his name was Sagrûrz and he took his job as Brood Master_ very_ seriously.

The squawks and growls of young orcs came to her ears. The air was rank with the sweat and waste of orcs, but it didn't bother Aza, it was a common smell.

Aza entered the huge cavernous room. Small orc bodies were all crowded around the room. She looked for the light skinned form of her brother. She saw him off in a corner with some of his peers; they were laughing and shoving each other around. The pale girl made her way towards them. One of them saw her coming and nudged Bolg. The big orcling turned and gave a sharp toothed grin to his sister.

"Aza!" He called. His voice was gravelly and low.

The other boys around her brother wouldn't meet her eyes, she intimidated them.

"Bolg… and company," She greeted them with a charming smile.

She craned her head to meet the other boys' eyes. They all glued their eyes to the floor. Aza smirked. She loved when they did that. Bolg watched his sister with confusion, what was she doing?

"Guess what I got?" She said proudly, snapping her head back up to her brothers.

Bolg looked puzzled. Aza rolled her eyes. He couldn't even guess the answer to a question.

"I got a knife," She grinned, taking the knife from its hidden place in her leg.

The males made audible gasps of horror.

"You can't have that…" Bolg growled.

"And what are you gonna do bout it?" Aza grinned, sliding the knife back in the pouch.

"Ma will have your head!" Bolg exclaimed.

"Not if she doesn't know…"

"Aza I –" Bolg stopped and glowered as he caught sight of something past Aza's shoulder.

The little orcess didn't have time to look back before there was a rough hand was going through her hair. Her head was jerked up towards the ceiling.

"Yer pretty," a sneering voice said.

Aza flicked her eyes to her captor. It was an older male orc, he was probably five years her senior. His skin was as black as hers was white, golden eyes glittered at her with a hidden intelligence. Aza knew this orc, everyone knew him. His name was Kalus, and he was the son of one of the most hated orcs in Moria, Mokûrz. Mokûrz had often questioned Azog's rule in the settlement. He and his son bore no respect for Azog or his line.

"Get off her!" Bolg bellowed in rage.

The painful grip on her scalp disappeared.

"Or wha? You gonna hit me, runt?" Kalus snickered.

No answer came from Bolg. Instead he answered the older orclings' question with a lunge of fury. The young males wrestled viciously on the ground. Growls, claws, and teeth flashed as the fought. Aza stood and watched them scrap with a look of horror. Her brother could not win this fight, no matter how big his ego was.

Kalus wasn't pleased that the little pale runt was putting up such a fight. Better to end it with blood. The dark orcling pulled a dagger and jammed the butt of the hilt into Bolg's eye. The pale orcling screamed in fury and pain. He clutched his eye and stayed on his knees.

The victor stood and grinned triumphantly.

"Yer weak, just like yer da–"

A piercing shriek of rage rent the air. Kalus roared when a stone knife pierced his thigh.

"Don't touch my brother!" Aza screamed, tearing her homemade dagger from the orcling's leg.

Everything happened so fast, Aza's hand flying forward and groping violently into Kalus' eye socket and ripping out his eye. The dark orcling howled in sheer agony as half his sight was ripped from his body.

Aza held up the twitching eye in her hand and grinned with a manic sense of triumph. She had taught that filthy rebel a lesson. One he would never forget.

All was utterly silent in the Brood Hall. All the other orclings watched in horror as a female (somewhat) crippled a male. She had broken the most primary unwritten law that orcs had.

She had fought a male.

And won.

Aza's pale fingers closed around the eyeball. Her adrenaline began to wear off. Her expression changed from pride to shock. Wide icy eyes examined the eye in her hand as the Sagrûrz, the Brood Master, charged forward in a flurry of curses. He yanked her by ear and grabbed her brother by the arm, dragging them away from the Brood Hall.

-xXx-

Sagrûrz couldn't believe it. This little girl just ripped out another orclings eye! Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised… her father was Azog the Defiler after all.

He had been on the other side of the hall when it happened. His keen ears had picked up the sounds of a violent scuffle. Normally these types of scraps would work themselves out and everyone would walk away unscathed.

But this time it had been different. The cries of pain had been real, not exaggerated. Sagrûrz pushed his way through the thick crowd of little orclings, only to see a rather terrifying sight.

Azog's daughter stood in a triumphant stance while holding something up. Kalus, a rather irritating trouble maker, was doubled over clutching his eye as blood oozed from under his hand.

Sweet Angmar, she had ripped the kid's eyeball out.

Now he was left with the difficult job of dragging the kids back to Azog… and explaining that his daughter had ripped out a male's eye… under his watch.

Sagrûrz gulped. His survival was unlikely.

-xXx-

Azog stood in a tent flanked by the Elder orc, his second in command, and his mate. They were discussing the recent crusade he had been on for the past few months. There were very few settlements now that didn't know of Moria's prowess.

In all honesty Azog was bored. Bola could tell this, she gave him a hidden smirk. He returned it. Their minds were both in the same place. He had been gone for months… their little moment of heated stares was broken by protests and curses coming from outside the tent.

"HOW DARE YOU!" They heard their daughter scream. "HE HURT BOLG! I HAD TO DO IT!" Aza continued.

The mated pair looked at each other with mirrored panic. Azog reached the tent flap with three powerful strides, Bola limped in his wake.

What Azog saw chilled his heart.

Aza stood by the Brood Master, her hand clenched into a fist, it was covered in thick, black blood. Bolg was on the other side, his hand lingered on his left eye.

"What happened?!" Azog demanded.

The Brood Master cleared his throat.

"They got in a fight. He got the worse of it and she went to 'is defense…" he swallowed. "She ripped the other imps eye out."

There was a shocked silence.

"She _what?_" Bola said from behind her mate. Her voice was ridged.

"She ripped 'is eye out." Sagrûrz repeated.

Azog looked from one child to the other. Aza's eyes were wide and glazy with fury as she stared at the ground. Bolg wouldn't look up to meet his father's eye.

Bola stepped forward and took her daughter roughly by the arm, dragging her back into the tent. Azog stood in front of the Brood Master and his son.

"Whose eye was it?" The Pale Orc asked.

"Kalus, Mokûrz's imp." Sagrûrz answered.

Azog couldn't help the grin that broke out on his face.

Served that bastard right.

-xXx-

Bola all but threw Aza on the ground.

"Do you know how I was crippled?" Bola demanded. Her voice was cold and terrifying.

"N-no…" Aza trembled at the sight of her enraged mother.

"I attacked a male and I paid the price."

The silence was tense between mother and daughter. Aza realized that Kalus' eye was still clenched in her fist. It was cold and squishy in her palm. The blood had dried and it made her hand feel all sticky and grimy.

"What happened to him?" Aza asked with hesitation.

Bola looked away from her daughter's inquisitive eyes. They looked so much like her father.

"I mated with him." She said.

Aza's eyes widened.

"Da did that to you?!" She exclaimed in horror.

"Yea, he did. I asked for it. I don't want the same to happen to you." Bola said.

"But he didn't hurt me, Ma, I got him good!" Aza grinned in triumph.

"He's still alive… He'll want revenge." The orcess reminded her daughter.

Aza felt her stomach twist. That was true… what had she done? She had further enraged her father's rival and made a personal one of her own.

"Promise me you'll never fight again, Aza?" Bola asked, desperation slipped into her words.

Aza grit her jaw and looked at her bloodied hand.

"No, Ma, I can't promise that." The little girl said as she looked up at her mother with a determined fire in her eyes.

There was a flame in her heart that could never be quenched. Bola knew in that moment that her daughter wouldn't be like the other orcesses her age. She would always be different.

-xXx-

Azog stood with his arms crossed outside of his home. He had chewed Bolg out for his mistakes. The boy needed more grit to him if he was going to one day take Azog's place. Now the Pale Orc waited for his mate and daughter. There was a seed of anxiety at the thought of the many severe punishments Bola could give Aza. Azog knew how touchy Bola was on the subject of females fighting.

Within a few moments Bola limped up the stairs and past her mate. He could tell she was angry and wanted to be left alone. Aza hopped up the stairs after her with the energy only a child could possess. She was about to walk past him when she stopped and turned. She raised her still bloodied and clenched hand up to him, her fingers opening with a squelch.

In her palm was what looked to be a crushed eye. Azog gaped for a moment before meeting her proud gaze and composing himself. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Bola wasn't in earshot. The large orc lord knelt down in front of his daughter.

"Good, you did well. That rat deserved it." He praised.

Aza let slip a devilish grin, one which Azog returned.

He found himself wishing that she had been born a male. She would have made a terrifying opponent.

-xXx-

Bolg sat with his arms wrapped around his knees. The air was chilly and he wore no blanket. His mind was having issues adjusting to the fact that only one eye could see. The hit from the blunt hilt of Kalus' knife had wounded his eye greatly – leaving it useless and turning it slowly from blue to white.

Bolg felt bitter. His father was angry with him, as he often was. Azog blamed Bolg for getting his sister into the mess she was in. The Pale Orc claimed that if he had only been stronger he could have bested Kalus and saved his sister from the trouble she was now in.

He hadn't tried to explain. Evoking his father's wrath was not something he wanted to do. When Azog convinced himself of something there was nothing that could change it.

Especially when it came to his sister.

Aza had always been their father's favorite. Bolg couldn't figure out why! She was smaller than him, she was a girl, and she used too many big words! Bolg sighed. He feared for the consequences that would be thrown upon him if his father found out that he was now half blind.

The confused orcling lay his head down in defeat upon his knees. What could he blame for this pain?

_Aza._

It was her fault their father disliked him. He wished her dead.

_You could kill her… _the cold voice in the back of his head whispered.

"Bolg?" Aza's soft voice called.

All animosity towards his sister faded away. This was his little sister, he had sworn since birth to protect her. Bolg turned around and saw his sister tip toeing her way towards him.

She slid to her knees in front of him and shuddered.

"You okay?" She asked tenderly, laying her small, pale hand on his wounded eye socket.

"I can't see…" Bolg looked away from his sister's gaze in shame.

Aza's eyes widened and she slipped her arms around her brother.

"It'll be okay," She reassured him.

"Father thinks me weak!" Bolg growled.

Aza snorted.

"Mums mighty pissed at me, you probably got it better than me!" She mumbled.

Both orclings chuckled. When it came down to their opinions, their mum was much scarier than their Da when she was truly enraged.

"It's gonna be okay, Bolg. Da won't stay mad at you forever. Not when I'm here." She snuggled up into her twin's embrace.

Bolg smiled softly. As long as he had his sister everything would be alright.

* * *

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	3. Prologue PT 3

**This could be considered borderline M. This is probably some of the most intense violence and emotional trauma I have ever written. You have been warned. This chapter was exhausting and emotionally draining for me. I hope I get some somewhat positive response.**

**Enjoy as much as you can, there isn't much to be happy about in this chapter. **

**Translations: **

**Baalak glob – Embarrassing filth**

**Pushi – Problems **

**Golug hai – Elves**

**Kranklûb - Mother**

* * *

**Prologue PT.3**

***All orc dialogue is automatically Black Speech***

* * *

Dâgalûr looked out from the sparse trees surrounding the mines of Moria. The night air was chill and his warriors' breath looked of dragon smoke. He grinned cruelly. The orcs of Moria knew nothing of his plan.

Their leader, Azog, had grown negligent in the watching of the lands surrounding his kingdom. At the mere thought of the Pale Orc, Dâgalûr's fists clenched. Though he was young, Dâgalûr was truly terrifying. Dark skin littered with countless scars, his eyes were like red fire and his fangs were sharp and pronounced. The manic glow in his eyes would frighten even the strongest of orcs.

None would dare challenge Azog for total control of the mines. That was not what Dâgalûr was after. He was after one thing – Revenge. Azog had attacked his own settlement. Dâgalûr had watched the Pale Orc decimate his village, watched as his mate and son were killed in the fray. There was nothing left for him, nothing except revenge.

For years he had clawed and murdered his way to the top. His heart was cold and his mind was insane. The Pale Orc's deeds haunted him and drove him into madness. He would do the same to Azog. He would destroy everything the Pale Orc knew and cared for. He would not stop till Azog watched his mate and children burn. All he wanted was his pain.

The orc leader took a deep breath. Now, to draw out Azog and his troops and leave the innocents unprotected. Dâgalûr grinned with malice. If his informant, Mokûrz, was correct, Azog had a mate and two offspring. '_Good, double the pain.' _He thought.

Dâgalûr turned to face his troops.

"Send out the messenger and get moving to the position!" He barked out.

Azog would fall.

-xXx-

Aza wasn't quite sure what was going on. Something was definitely wrong, though. Ever since that freaky looking messenger had come to the front gates all the adults were franticly running around and preparing weapons and armor.

She had barely seen her father; he had come home in the foulest mood she had ever seen. Her mother tried to calm him, it usually worked, but not this time. Her father seemed to be even angrier.

Two days of frantic madness turned into her father leading an army to charge out the gates. His army being ready for defense must have calmed him, for he took the time to say goodbye. This was very new. Her father seemed to think he would not be coming back.

Aza, Bolg, and Bola were in the main room of their stone home. Azog was standing in front of them, his eyes showing anxiety that normally did not shine through.

"Aza, Bolg, come here." He said sternly.

The pale orclings scurried forward to their father's side. Bolg kept his half blind gaze down but Aza looked directly into her father's intense stare. It had been two months since the eye fiasco, ever since then Azog had become harsher on Bolg.

Azog smirked softly at his daughter's curiosity. He reached to his side and plucked two, small leather strings with warg claws attached and slid the loops of leather over his children's heads. Aza grinned and examined her new trinket with glee. Bolg let a small smile slip as well.

Aza hopped on her little feet in excitement then hugged Azog's leg briefly. The Pale Orc smiled fondly at his daughter, and ruffled her thick hair. He looked to Bolg, Azog knelt down to his height, his gaze level with his son's.

"You will protect them," He said, not breaking his intense stare.

"Yes Father," Bolg answered stiffly.

"I expect much from you," Azog said coldly to his young son.

Then he turned to look at Aza, his demeanor softening instantly.

"Stay safe," Was all he could say to the young girl who looked so much like her mother.

Bolg had his mother's wiry build and his father's height and strength. Aza had Azog's more sturdy and "human-like" build and her mother's beauty. She was looking more and more like her with age. Bolg's hair had darkened as he matured but Aza's kept its vibrant red hue. Bolg's skin seemed to take on a darker shade than his sister's pure, milky tone.

Azog sighed and stood to face his mate. She looked at him with sorrowful eyes; their dark gaze kept flicking to Bolg. He reached his arm out for her embrace; she all but flew into it.

"Azog," she whispered against his chest. "I am afraid for you and our children. Something is wrong,"

"Shar, gakh ash." [Hush, beloved one.] He murmured into her thick hair. He memorized the scent of his mate, cherishing what time he had with her. There was no guarantee he would return from battle.

Once again he reached down and plucked something off his belt. It was a bone carved into the form of a flower. Instead of a necklace it was able to be woven into hair. Azog held it out to her in the palm of his hand. She smiled softly and clipped it into her fiery locks. Their foreheads met tenderly in a bitter sweet farewell.

That was the last time he ever held his mate.

-xXx-

Azog's army of orcs slithered from the main gates of Moria. He stood at their head, his mace in hand and the midday sun unaffecting on his pale skin. His head turned to look back at the gates. There, standing by the gate, was Aza. Her hands behind her back, posture straight and her eyes watching him, her little pale form seemed so out of place with her long red hair and ratty tunic.

A smile almost touched his lips. He would fight for his daughter. He would come back for her.

-xXx-

But he wouldn't come back for her. The males had fallen for the trick of The Demon, as Dâgalûr was often called. Barely a day had passed when the pack of dark orcs had set upon Moria like wargs to prey.

There was chaos in the streets. Mothers were shielding their children from the oncoming enemies, some orclings were running madly through the streets, trying to survive and find their mothers. The few males that stayed behind were fighting valiantly in the protection of the females and imps.

But Dâgalûr only looked for his prizes; the others were nothing but sport to him and his orcs. His red eyes scanned the madness for white skin. The foul orc wondered what Azog's mate would look like. No doubt she would be beautiful, Azog wouldn't go for anything less.

He could not seem to find a single flash of pale. Perhaps his offspring had taken after their mother and left the light mutation to Azog alone. No, that couldn't be. Mokûrz informed him that they were both pale like their father.

A growl of annoyance came from Dâgalûr. He would find those imps and their mother.

"Find the pale imps!" He turned and shouted to the soldiers closest to him. They scurried away in search of the children. Dâgalûr turned on his heel, hefting his ax in one hand.

He stopped short when he saw the figure standing behind him. It was a child, a little female. Her hair was red as fire and her eyes were a pure, intense blue. A grin broke out on his face, his yellow fangs revealed themselves from under thin, cracked lips. This child's skin was pale as the moon.

"A child of the Defiler," Dâgalûr mused.

"Yeah, so?" She replied with audacity, her little arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

A laugh was building in his throat. This little child was not in the least bit terrified of him.

He would change that.

Dâgalûr took slow steps towards her, his ax almost touching the stone floor. He stopped when he towered directly over her. Her eyes did not blink as they stared into his. The orc rogue found himself falling under the enchantment of her gaze. Her eyes were level, calm, and furious. They held a deep, cunning intelligence. This child was different. He liked different.

The contact was broken when a body came slamming into his own. A mess of red hair was all he saw as claws raked across his chest and teeth latched onto his arm. Dâgalûr reached out and caught his attacker by the throat and threw him to the ground.

He was surprised to see that his attacker was not a male… it was a female, a female that bore a striking resemblance to the pale imp. He grinned. She was quite beautiful, just as he had suspected. He might just keep her for himself.

He may have gone through with it if he had not seen the horrid scar marring her leg, obviously making her crippled. Azog had taken a crippled female as his mate? Maybe he had overlooked the deformity and taken her for her beauty…?

It didn't matter – the mating scar that shown on her shoulder sang to the fact that this was Azog's _beloved _mate. Her pain would scorch Azog to the core of his very being… as would the hurt of his child.

The female was snarling and shielding her child away from him. The little girl was trying to peek around the edge of her mother's tattered tunic to glare at him. Dâgalûr waved his ax for two nearby orcs to grab the females. They both howled in anger as their arms were forced behind their backs and they were forced onto their knees.

At that moment, two different orcs came running up to him bearing news.

"We cain't find tha boy," The first said.

"Azog's scouts are at tha front gates!" The other panted, his chest heaving from his long run.

Dâgalûr growled. Azog wasn't supposed to return for days! The might of Azog's army was greater than his. There was no way for his entire army to outrun the Pale Orc's, Azog had far more wargs. His army had not yet fully conquered Moria. Those scouts would reach Azog before Dâgalûr could have his warriors pulled out and far away in time. He would have to leave his troops here for the sake of revenge. He would take warg riders and steal the mother and daughter away.

Azog wouldn't be able to lead his army on a hunt for only his mate and child. The Pale Orc had an entire settlement to oversee; he could not simply abandon it so soon after an invasion.

Dâgalûr smirked, yes; he would lead Azog on a merry little chase. And by the time the Pale Orc caught up with them, his mate and daughter would be beaten, starved, and wishing for death.

What a flawless plan.

Dâgalûr turned to the two orcs.

"You," he pointed at the first orc. "Gather the warg riders, I leave with his females. Forget about the boy, I have my prize." Dâgalûr turned to the second. "Make sure that the army is ready for Azog. Don't underestimate his wrath."

"B-but sir! Our army won't be ab –"

"DO AS I SAY!" Dâgalûr bellowed to the orc who dared to question him.

The orcs scampered away to do his bidding. Dâgalûr turned to the females, hauling them up by the arm and dragging them towards the snarls and barks of his wargs. The girl was flailing around and putting up quite a fight but her mother was limp and let her body drag on the ground.

The wargs eyed the females hungrily, they sensed fear. One particularly large, dark warg came forth to greet its master. Dâgalûr threw the girl onto its back, she screamed in anger. Her mother was silent and limp.

Dâgalûr looked around to see the about three dozen other orcs mounting up onto their wargs. He grinned as he kicked his warg roughly on the side. The warg riders leaped away at great speeds, tearing away from the deep mines of Moria.

Away from safety, away from home, further than Aza had ever gone before.

-xXx-

_No._

It couldn't be true. He could not have been so easily tricked. Not with so much at stake. The faces of Bola, Aza and Bolg flashed through Azog's mind as he rode at the head of his army. The scouts had returned bearing the grievous news of an attack on Moria. Without a second thought, Azog had turned his army around and sped towards the mines.

The mountains and the main gates were within his sights now. He only hoped that he wouldn't be too late. Orcs showed no mercy towards their enemies, even their own race. Especially this orc, Dâgalûr was ruthless and relentless. If it was revenge he was after then he would get it. The fear for his mate and offspring was over powering. He could think of nothing except reaching them.

When the army did reach it, they burst through the gates in a wave of fury. Their grief and anger drove them wild. They killed without mercy. None were left of Dâgalûr's army. Every last orc was hunted down and slain.

Azog ran through the streets, looking desperately for any sign of his family. But no sign was found. Not until an orc approached him, carrying the limp body of his son. The Pale Orc quickly relieved the orc of the child and knelt beside the boy. His remaining hand shook Bolg to waken him. A nasty looking gash ran across the pale boy's forehead.

Bolg awakened slowly, his one good eye looking blurry and confused. He slowly sat up and looked around. His eyes widened at the sight of his father. Bolg looked down in sadness and shame.

"He took them," Bolg said, his voice small and pressured under the intensity of his father's gaze.

Azog felt as if a shard of ice had entered his heart. All the fear left his body and fury replaced it. He had given this child _one_ job and he had failed. It was Bolg's responsibility to have watched over his mother and sister. Not be rendered unconscious. Weakling. His sister would have done a better job.

"You were supposed to protect them!" Azog hissed.

"I tried, father!" Bolg pleaded.

"You didn't try hard enough. Now look what you've done! Your mother and sister are going to die because you failed. You're weak!" Azog said, his voice holding hatred and fury.

The accusation made Bolg's face lax in horror. This was his fault, all his fault. He would never see Aza again. His poor little sister, she would be so afraid. Something changed in his heart that day… in both Azog and Bolg's. They became colder, harder, more driven in hate. Bolg decided that he would never be weak again. Never again would he prove his father right in that cruel accusation of weakness. Bolg would show his father just how strong he was.

-xXx-

The night was cold. Very cold. Aza's breath was a thick fog as she breathed heavily beside her mother. For three days now the wargs had barely stopped their running. Aza was convinced her father would come for them. He had to. He couldn't abandon them, not like this.

The females lay awkwardly on their sides with their arms tied behind them. Aza wiggled up closer to her mother for warmth.

"Mother," She whispered. "Da will come, right?"

Bola released a shuddering breath.

"Yes," Bola told her daughter.

But in her heart she doubted him. Azog could not afford to leave Moria, especially after such a devastating attack. She could not let her daughter lose such blind hope in her father. She and Azog had known something like this would happen… she just hadn't expected it to be like this.

Bola scooted herself closer to her daughter. They shared their bodily warmth. Their captor, Dâgalûr, was cruel in every way. He barely fed them, gave them no warmth, and would lash them if they spoke.

The mother nuzzled her daughter's hair, at least she had Aza.

-xXx-

Dâgalûr snarled as he turned towards the restless wargs. He had expected to see some sign of Azog's pursuit by now. It had been three days. But there was nothing.

This, of course, could work to his advantage. It could weaken and break the females. He sauntered up to where they lay.

"He isn't coming for you," He said to them.

"You don't know that," Azog's mate uttered.

A cackle escaped him.

"It's been three days, he obviously doesn't care."

A sharp growl and wave of violent struggling came from the imp. Her teeth snapped at him. Dâgalûr kicked her sharply in the ribs. She whimpered and stilled.

"You're mine now. Better behave. I'd hate to kill you so soon." He hissed to them.

-xXx-

Three months, Bola had counted. That was how long she and her daughter had been captive in the cruel hands of Dâgalûr. She told Aza not to fight against them. They would only whip her worse. The only positive thing that happened was the discovery that Azog had begun to pursue them. But, at the same time it caused Dâgalûr to become pressured to move faster.

Bola didn't know where they were going. The females had been cut off from all conversation. It was with her own senses that Bola was able to find out about Azog.

She dearly hoped that Bolg was alright, she hadn't seen him since the entail attack.

The female sighed and slumped onto the boulder where she was rested. Aza was lying beside her, brooding with her cheek pressed against the dirt.

"Da is near," Aza said quietly.

Bola looked at her daughter for a moment.

"How do you know?" She asked.

"Dâgalûr is jumpy and if you listen really close you can hear his wargs." Aza replied.

Bola smirked softly. Aza had definitely inherited her father's sharp senses.

Heavy shuffling footsteps made both orcess' look up. It was the Lackey, the orc with the sharp whip.

"Get up, filth!" He barked at them.

Bola complied; the whip had seared her back far too many times. But Aza's eyes flashed with heated rebellion.

"No, I don't listen to baalak glob!" She spat at him.

The Lackey spent no time pulling out his whip and giving her a thrash. The whip's sharp end cut her cheek, giving a deep gash. Blood began to flow in little black rivulets over her milky skin.

Instead of cringing in pain, Aza let a smirk twist its way onto her features. There was a painful stab in Bola's chest at the sight of that smirk. It mirrored her mates almost exactly.

"Aza, get up and do as he says." Bola said in a low voice to her daughter.

The girl spared her mother a glare that normally would have gotten her slapped. Aza's intense glare never left the Lackey's throat. Bola was pretty sure the girl was imaging ripping his throat out. Which, she wouldn't be surprised if she did eventually, for being small Aza was frighteningly strong, she always had been.

Once again, Bola and her daughter were tossed haphazardly onto the wargs.

"We're getting into the Beast's lands. We might lose Azog here, he has some pushi with the Bear Man." Bola heard Dâgalûr say.

Dread filled her stomach. The last of the Skin Changers walked these lands. She knew of her mate's involvement with their race's almost extinction. Though, he had never spoken of it to her.

If they truly were crossing over the Beast's land, then there was only one place where Dâgalûr could be headed.

Mirkwood.

-xXx-

Their travel through the Skin Changer's land was miserable. There was hardly a stop for rest. The only times the wargs did stop was for a quick water break and a moment to catch their breath.

It got worse when the roars started. Obviously the Beast had been alerted to their presence. Having a giant bear chasing you was not something to be excited about… but none the less, Dâgalûr seemed to feed off the idea. He knew that he was giving Azog a hard time.

Soon, too soon for Bola's liking, the forest of Mirkwood loomed up in front of them. Its darkness seemed to beckon the orcs into its depths. All Bola felt was dread. There was an ominous foreboding as the orc pack dashed under the safety of the twisted canopy.

Bola looked back one last time to the rolling green landscape they had just crossed. Her eyes strained for any sight of her pale mate. But she saw nothing. They had lost Azog, and with it, Bola's hope.

-xXx-

They loped as fast as they could through the twisted and treacherous trees. It was a day before Dâgalûr called a stop. The females were dispatched roughly onto the ground where they knelt side by side, their arms tied behind their backs.

Dâgalûr circled them astride his black warg, a triumphant smirk on his twisted face. He directed his gloating red gaze towards Bola.

"Yer mate failed you again," He taunted.

Bola clenched her jaw tightly to hold back her sharp tongue. She wanted nothing more than to jump up in the defense of her mate. But she knew better, it wouldn't surprise her if Dâgalûr killed her now and left her body for the crows and for Azog to see when he caught up with them. She breathed heavily to calm herself. Aza seemed to be trembling in fury beside her. She dearly hoped that the girl wouldn't lash out in anger.

It seemed Bola was out of luck.

"He hasn't failed us! He will catch you and he will kill you!" Aza shrieked.

Dâgalûr smirked and slid down from his warg, taking a painful looking whip off of his hip and stalking closer to the females. Bola felt her eyes prick, Aza was about to be lashed terribly, she knew. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"Yer a lil runt," The whip snapped across Aza's back, she cried out in pain as the bladed tip sliced through her skin. "You need a lesson. How about I make you match yer father, hmm? I bet you'd like that. Look like yer filthy father." The whip came down in lightning arcs across the girl's back. Bola was tugging violently against her wrist bindings. Aza's back was stained black with blood now, her cries had stopped, and she took the pain in stoic silence.

There was a twang and a yelp and a wave of commotion amongst the orc riders. A warg had been pierced through the skull by an elegant, black arrow. It was the most terrifyingly beautiful thing Bola had ever seen. Silver strands wove up the black shaft and spread out into three luminescent fletchings. It was a powerful shot that killed the warg instantly.

Dâgalûr's attention snapped to the surrounding trees; he dropped the whip and drew his ax. The other orcs drew their weapons and prepared to fight. Bola watched with wide eyes. This wasn't an orc arrow, but yet, it wasn't elvish either. Nor was it dwarvish or man.

It did not belong to any race.

No more arrows came from the trees, only complete, utter, chilling silence. Bola felt as if there was ice staring into her soul. Her eyes wandered up and into the shadowy boughs of the trees. Her heart stopped beating for a moment.

There, crouched in the trees, was a dark and sinister figure. Two white, almost dead seeming eyes stared into her. The eyes  
were not clouded with blindness, the pupils were a vivid black and the irises seemed to be lined with darkness. What was this creature? Then the white eyes shifted to Aza, who was lying on the ground in a delirium of pain. The look it gave her daughter was predatory. It wanted her daughter, she could see it in the posture it crouched in.

She did not like it one bit.

The coarse voice of Dâgalûr cut through the air in a command to keep moving into the forest. The creature slowly backed further into the shadows of the tree until it was hidden from Bola's sight. Though the creature was gone, it did not ease the terror in her heart. It would be back, she knew.

A small moan of pain came from the orcling beside her.

"Aza?" She whispered.

"Ma… it hurts, hurts worse than the other times." Aza sniffled.

"You have to be strong, you have to pull through this!" Bola urged her daughter quietly.

"I-I'll try…" She said as she was roughly hauled up onto the back of a warg.

-xXx-

It was following them.

As they got deeper and deeper into the forest it became more and more bold. She had seen it sitting with its leg casually hanging off a tree branch. It seemed totally calm with the fact that an orc pack of forty wargs was barely six yards away. The orcess had determined that it took the form of either a man or an elf. Honestly it didn't matter _what_ it was, it still watched Aza like a hawk all the same.

But what troubled her more was Aza's infection. Not two days after she was lashed by Dâgalûr her temperature had risen and the wound had gotten incredibly tender. Bola feared for her daughter's life. There was nothing she could do, every time she would dare to ask for help, she would be slapped or threatened with death. Bola began to realize that he was thinking of killing them off and escaping the forest as soon as possible.

Dâgalûr was incredibly moody and twitchy. He felt slowed down and closed in by the menacing forest. The threat of their unknown follower weighed heavily on his mind. The stalker obviously had the upper hand in an ambush. Azog's females were beginning to be too much of a hand full. The imp had a bad infection and the mother couldn't walk well. It would be easier to leave their heads on pikes in the middle of a trail.

Not to mention the fact that they were _very_ close to elvish borders. He hadn't meant to go that close to the elves, it was his one flaw in the plan for revenge. And it was ultimately his downfall.

-xXx-

They hadn't smelled them coming, they we caught off guard. Bola heard a harsh shout of "Golug!" before a slim golden arrow shot through the air and into a nearby orc's throat, the clearing they were resting in slid into chaos. The orcess held her daughter close, as close as she could with no arms. Despite Aza's condition, their arms were still tied behind their backs. There was a desperate urge to get free, this may be their only chance. If she could get Aza free then maybe the girl could hide in the forest and wait for her father… it was the only hope.

Bola leaned down and took her daughter's bindings in her teeth and bit down hard. She felt – to her satisfaction – the dirty ropes give and tear at the sharp pressure. She bit again and the ropes came lose. Aza was roused from her delirium at the feeling of her bindings being cut. The girl's adrenaline was pumping as she stood freely for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Aza listen to me," Bola said, her voice ragged with fear and desperation. "You must run, you must do whatever it takes to survive. Do you understand me?!"

Aza looked into the fearful ash-green eyes of her mother.

"Yes, mother." She said, reaching up to touch her mother's cheek, her sharp eyes glancing over the bone flower woven into her hair.

"Good girl," Bola gave her daughter a quick smile, hoping the girl could not see the tears brimming in her eyes. "Now, run, GO! Don't look back!"

Aza turned and ran for the edge of the forest, her hand clutching the warg claw around her neck as she disappeared among the fighting. Bola nodded, at least Aza had a chance. She was about to figure out a way to free herself when a boot planted itself on her chest and pinned her to the ground. Bola looked up and met the furious gaze of Dâgalûr. He had a vicious looking dagger in his hand, it was covered in blood.

"I shoulda killed you sooner!" He growled as he raised the dagger.

Bola closed her eyes to accept death with dignity. A _whoosh _and a _thud _came from above her. She opened her eyes to see Dâgalûr clutching a thin, black, silver marked arrow that was embedded into his ribcage. There was a sound of a cloak flapping and a flash of white silver and a searing pain that went from her collarbone down to her pelvis. Oh no…Aza… Bolg… Azog… they needed her! She needed them! Aza would be alone in the forest without her, she couldn't die! With her last breath she cried out for the girl she had sent into the doom of Mirkwood.

"AZA!"

Then, everything was gone. She was lost in the dark oblivion of death.

-xXx-

Everything takes longer when you want to get somewhere quickly, and it is often laced with difficulties, especially when you are half the size of the warriors battling between you and the freedom of the forest. Aza was tripped and hit several times within a few seconds of her sprinting departure from her mother's side. Her head was spinning from her fever and causing her to stumble and fall to her knees.

Her back hurt so terribly bad, perhaps she could lie down on those soft looking leaves and sleep for a moment. It would be the first sleep she had in her newly found freedom.

"AZA!" The scream ripped through the air and caused her body to send out a large dose of adrenaline.

It was her mother.

Oh, she was aware of what her mother told her, go into the forest and don't look back. Pshaw, when had she ever listened to authority? Aza stood and looked back the way she had come.

Where her mother had knelt not minute before now lay a bloody corpse, one that had been brutally split down the torso. Beside the corpse knelt Dâgalûr, his dagger dripping with fresh, red blood. Aza turned numb with rage and utter grief. That filth had split her mother open like she was nothing more than an animal for the slaughter! She stood with a dangerous grace. Her eyes were as hard and cold as ice as they bore into Dâgalûr's. He had an arrow in his chest and he was slowly fading.

Aza's pace quickened and she soon stood in front of him, her posture was ridged and furious. She reached down and slid her hand into his own, taking his dagger. He was on his knees and she stared directly into his eyes. Her hatred and fury unwavering as she took the dagger and drove it brutally into his temple. The pale orcling let out a roar of rage, it rang throughout the clearing. She pushed his corpse to the ground and repeatedly began to stab his head.

Finally, when she stopped her violence, Dâgalûr's face was unrecognizable. She gave the very slightest of grim smirks at her handy work. Then the reality set in, her mother was dead. Aza's shoulders slumped and she dropped the dagger on the forest floor. Slowly, she pivoted towards the gruesome corpse of her mother. All her emotion came crashing through like a wave.

A keening cry of despair came from the girl as she leaned forward and clutched her mother's shoulders and began to sob wildly.

"MOTHER!" She screamed over and over again, rocking her mother in her small arms, not caring that tears streaked in rivers from her eyes.

After a moment, a stern, melodious voice spoke in a language she did not understand. Aza's head snapped up and looked around. Elves had the clearing surrounded, three rather important looking elves stood in front of her, a female and two males. One male had very light, golden hair and a serious expression, the other male wore a dark hood, but his incredibly light blue eyes seared into her, then there was the female. The one thing Aza liked about her was her hair.

Their hair shared the same ginger hue.

The golden haired male snapped something in a smooth language to another elf, which swept forward and seized her from behind. The orcling began to scream and kick and shout curses in Black Speech. Tears of anguish and fear rolled down her cheeks. These elves would kill her.

She was dragged forward till she was in front of the cloaked elf. He knelt down to her height, she snapped at the air with her fangs, hoping to catch his face.

A soft chuckle came from him.

"Feisty, aren't you?" He said in familiar Black Speech.

Aza stopped short, and stared into his unnatural eyes.

"What are you gonna do with me?" She asked, not breaking the gaze.

The elf pondered this for a moment.

"We won't kill you… yet. But if you attack any of us we will have no choice but to kill you." He replied, communicating in flawless Black Speech. The other elves looked at him with discomfort, the red haired female had an expression of awe.

Aza's eyes narrowed suspiciously. This elf wasn't trust worthy, she didn't like him.

"Who are you?"

He let out a short bark of laughter.

"I am Maltríth, walker of the woods and keeper of travelers." He said, then he looked to her, "And who are you?"

"I am Aza."

-xXx-

Tauriel hated was orcs. She also hated when their forest look out would track orc packs by himself! Their rather untrustworthy forest guard, Maltríth, had come to elven king speaking of a large orc pack nearing their borders. Thranduil had spent no time sending out a troop of elves led by his son and the captain of the guard. Orcs had to be taught a lesson. They could not be so daring to enter the elven king's realm.

They were able to surprise the orc pack as they rested within a clearing. It was almost too easy to clear out the orcs, they were fatigued and surprised, not a good combination for fighting well readied elves.

Tauriel had just gracefully ended her last orc when there was a high pitched roar of fury. Her sharp green eyes scanned the clearing for the owner of the scream. The elf maiden felt her blood run cold at the sight in the middle of the clearing. There seemed to be an orc child brutally stabbing the head of a large orc. The appearance of the child took Tauriel aback for a moment. It had long _red _hair and very white skin. It kept stabbing the orc's face with a dagger. The whole clearing was stiff with morbid fascination.

The captain of the guard felt a dark prescience slide up beside her, it was Maltríth, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable from underneath his cowl. She felt a slight blush creep up on her neck. She never understood this elf, he was always odd and somewhat unsettling to be around. They watched in silence as the strange little orc stood up. Tauriel's eyes widened, this was a little girl orc. She had never really thought about the idea that there were female orcs… she shuddered, they needed to reproduce somehow.

Her gaze drifted past the child and to another corpse that lay beside the newly mutilated orc. Her heart wrenched when the girl let out a keening cry and dropped to her knees beside the smaller body. From that distance, Tauriel could tell that it was a female orc, there was no doubt about it. The dead female and the strange little girl shared the same red hair. A trait the elleth had never seen in an orc before.

The girl rocked the female's body in her arms,

"KRANKLÛB!" She screamed over and over again, tears running down her cheeks.

Tauriel felt a painful tug on her heart and sting in her eyes. She did not see a filthy little orc, she saw a little girl crying over her deceased mother.

"Faellon, take it from its weeping." Legolas gently commanded a nearby elf.

At his words the girl's eyes snapped up and she sent a seething glare in their direction. Tauriel felt the girl's eyes raking over her body, assessing her with cold scrutiny. The orc imp let out a squeal of rage as Faellon grabbed her from behind and pulled her from the corpse. Tauriel didn't know what she was saying, but she could only imagine it was rather nasty.

The girl was dragged kicking in screaming to their feet. Tauriel found herself once more in awe at the oddness of the child's appearance. She had _blue eyes_! Since when did orcs possess such a fair feature?

Maltríth stepped forward and knelt before the child. She growled and snapped at him with sharp little fangs, he chuckled something in Black Speech. A wave of unease went through the nearby elves. It was not normal for an elf to be educated in such a foul language. Instead of feeling appalled, she felt a little tug of allurement towards this odd elf.

For a moment, Maltríth conversed with the child; she looked at him with upmost suspicion. It was almost a comical look, her intense blue eyes glowered at him from under pinched brows. Tauriel noticed that the child was actually quite fair, in her own way. She had high cheek bones and a strong, defined jaw line. Her eyes were a piercing sapphire that shone brightly with her milky white skin. The hair was another striking feature on this incredibly odd little orc girl. Tauriel had never seen anything like her.

Maltríth stood suddenly and turned to Tauriel.

"This child will need a healer." He said, brushing off his knees.

"Excuse me, what?" Legolas snapped.

"You heard me, she needs a healer. She has a severe infection on her back from whip marks." Maltríth started to brush by the elven prince but Legolas stopped him with a firm arm.

"We should just put it out of its misery. It will be quick." The prince said.

Tauriel almost gasped.

"No!" she exclaimed before clearing her throat as both elves looked at her with raised brows. "I mean - she is only a child, perhaps we could spare her life."

"Tauriel yo-"

"I agree with Tauriel," Maltríth grinned and pushed his hood down. Strands of windblown gold hair fell to his chin; with the signature high cheekbones and the blemish free skin of an elf, he was quite handsome. He sent a flattering grin to Tauriel and strode past Legolas, who was giving him a rather dirty look.

The orc girl's eyes flicked back and forth between them, trying to understand what on earth they were talking about.

Legolas cast his glare down to the orcling.

"Search it for weapons," He commanded.

Two elves descended upon the child and began to search her. She squirmed and growled, not liking their contact. One elf reached to her neck and plucked a leather cord from her neck. She gave and earsplitting screech and lunged for the elf, he reared back in shock.

"Knock it out!" Legolas ordered.

Before Tauriel could intervene, the child had already been hit across the head. She went limp and slid to the ground. The ginger elf was about to go to her side, but Maltríth had already beat her to it. He touched the child's cheek and nodded, apparently she was fine.

"Tauriel," Legolas called. "We must burn the bodies."

The elleth sighed, she hated dragging orc corpses. Tauriel stepped her way through the bodies of orcs, she was glad to see that none of their troop had been killed. She must have been lost in her thought, because she almost tripped on one of the bodies. She looked down and almost wretched. It was the mother orc. The sight made her have to turn away. The female was completely split open with a long, precise, clean cut, like an animal. Only a horrible monster would have done such a gruesome deed.

Tauriel glared at the mutilated corpse of the male that lay beside the female. There was no doubt that he was the murderer of this mother. Tauriel felt a surge of wrath towards him, she spat on his corpse.

She was about to walk away when she stopped and turned to look at the female again, not her butchered body, but her face. Grayish green eyes stared sightlessly into the boughs of the trees above. Long red hair was splayed out under her back. The elleth's eyes narrowed when she saw something white attached to the orcess' hair. She knelt and touched the trinket. It was a bone, carved into the shape of a flower. It was a beautiful charm; it would be a shame to see it burned. Tauriel gently pulled it free from the tangled red locks. The elf maid slid the flower into a pocket. Maybe it would be useful later.

She sighed and looked at the open glazed eyes of the orcess. Her slender elven hand reached up and closed her lids for the last time.

-xXx-

Maltríth watched in fascination as Tauriel closed the eyes of the mother orc. The captain's kindness and understanding surprised him, he would have thought she would be the one trying to slit little Aza's throat. Tauriel stood up and glided off to help with the burning process. It was Maltríth's turn now.

Without much sound he walked up to Dâgalûr's body. He took a nearby spear and slammed it into the ground right beside the orc leaders head. The dark elf knelt and slide out one of his special blades. His gloved fingers grabbed the orc's hair. With one swift slash of his light blade, he decapitated Dâgalûr.

Maltríth held his head up into the air and smirked softly. The orc's face was completely mutilated.

"Thank you," he whispered. "You have served your purpose."

Then he stuck the head onto the spear and turned to gather Aza, his prize.

-xXx-

Azog really hated bears. Especially skin changers that made him lose his prey. If it hadn't been for the Beast he would have caught Dâgalûr within a day. The orcs that rode with him were fueled by the same anger he was. Their home had been attacked by Dâgalûr - some of them lost mates or imps in the attack.

They managed to escape the Beast and flee into Mirkwood. However Dâgalûr's scent was almost gone, Azog blamed the recent rain. The wargs struggled to follow the scent. But somehow they managed to track them through the woods. The Pale Orc was unsure why Dâgalûr was going so close to elven borders. Nevertheless, they pursued him for a solid week…Until they smelled the smoke.

It was the scent of burnt flesh and hair, and to the orcs sensitive noses it was no doubt orc flesh. The wargs had sensed this and followed their noses to the sight of a large clearing. In the center was a pile of still smoking corpses. Wargs and orcs were nothing but ashes and barely recognizable skeletons. Azog slid from his warg, feeling the numbness spread over his body.

They were dead.

His mate and daughter lay burnt in that horrible pile of corpses. He was too late, he had failed them again. Azog walked slowly up to the pile of the dead. There was a spear planted beside the pile, on it sat a very mutilated head. It was Dâgalûr's. It was elves who did this, their fine arrows were scattered around the forest floor. But this head confused him. Elves were not the type to repeatedly stab an orc's face after it was dead. It was too messy for them, he would have expected this type of behavior from an orc.

He snarled at the head. Then he looked to the bodies. They were all burnt and definitely male… all except the skeleton laying on the very top of the pile. Azog's heart wrenched painfully. He never showed a weak emotion, he couldn't afford to do that. His eyes trailed over the smaller body of his now dead mate. No mistaking her singed red hair. The fire had revealed the scar tissue of her leg.

This was Bola.

That final revelation was enough to bring him down on one knee. His remaining hand was planted on the ground, his fingers curled tightly into the leaves. There was so much anger and sadness within him. But he could not let it show.

Slowly he stood back on his feet, letting that moment of silent mourning be his only show of emotion. He turned back and strode towards his warg. The other riders sat somberly, even the wargs sensed it and ceased their normal snarls and held still, staring at the fading smoke.

"Where do we go now?" Yazneg asked, pulling his warg to a stop a pace or so away from Azog.

Azog's eyes glowed with a furious hatred as he glared at the pile.

"Dol Guldur," He growled, turning and kicking his warg in the direction of the old fortress.

* * *

**I'd like to apologize for such a cruel/violent and rollercoaster like chapter… a lot happened and I have to say that this chapter is probably the most crucial prologue. It sets up for A LOT later on, it 'twas a necessary evil. It gets better, trust me. Just hang on for this bumpy beginning ride.**

**Hugs and cookies to: briannamason7, Chrome Hearts, Guest, Corruptyk, Scattered-Stars, SieMistra, and ZabuzasGirl for reviewing! You guys are really great! And a huge thanks to the countless follows and favorites I have gotten! I seriously had my doubts that people would even like this story! **

**What do you think of the new OC Maltríth? Dâgalûr? The beginnings of the Azog/Bolg tension? Bola's death? Tauriel's kindness? Azog's grief? **

**I would love to hear your thoughts!**

**Thank you for reading!**


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